


Closin' Time

by cowboykylux



Series: If The Creek Don't Rise [8]
Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Face-Fucking, Public Blow Jobs, Rough Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 22:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21022988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: “Clyde?” He hears a familiar voice accompanied by the soft closing of the front door.He doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s you, but he does anyway. He does because he loves lookin’ at you, at his girl. He still doesn’t know how any of that happened, how he managed to get ya, but he did, and you were his, and every time he caught sight of ya his veins pulsed with lust.





	Closin' Time

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! This was another prompt-inspired post, this time by an anonymous submission that read: "I want clyde to face fuck me outside the bar, looking like a fucking snack in those black jeans and button down"
> 
> enjoy!

“Clyde?” He hears a familiar voice accompanied by the soft closing of the front door. 

He doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s you, but he does anyway. He does because he loves lookin’ at you, at his girl. He still doesn’t know how any of that happened, how he managed to get ya, but he did, and you were his, and every time he caught sight of ya his veins pulsed with lust. 

You’re standing there wearing probably not enough, wearing something cute but not too practical, not for the autumn chill that’s settled in around West Virginia, and he drinks you in like the tall glass of water you are, throat suddenly parched.

“Hey darlin’, whatcha doin’ out here?” Clyde asks, wondering why you left the warm safety of the bar to venture outside. 

He already knows the answer in the way you saunter over to him, the way you press yourself up against his side, left arm coming around to hold you close. He liked that you never shied away from him, when he wasn’t wearin’ his prosthetic or nothin’.

You smile up at him, and he sees something dark there, something devious. He swallows, cheeks already tinging pink. 

“I was just gonna ask you the same thing.” You let your fingertips walk up his chest, fiddle with the buttons on his ironed shirt, “I didn’t take you for a smoker.”

Y’all hadn’t been dating long, but Clyde holds his hand up to show it’s cigarette free. He hadn’t smoked in years and years, wanted you to know that. 

“Was just needin’ some fresh air, that’s all.” He replies, letting that hand come over to your throat, let it tilt your chin up to meet his lips in a soft kiss. 

He normally isn’t this bold, normally isn’t this public, but the parking lot is empty, and there’s no one watchin’ but the moon as he slides his tongue against yours. 

“Aren’t you lonely? Out here all by yourself?” You ask, pout at him, mock sadness for him having left you in the bar for a few moments. 

“I don’t gotta be, on account of you bein’ here now.” Clyde says back, and you grin, pulling him down for a kiss once more. 

Fuck, he loves the feeling of your mouth on his, loves the way your lips get puffy and swollen from being kissed kissed kissed, bitten and bruised and scratched up by his facial hair. He loves how delicate your bones feel under his big hand, how he could bruise you so easy with a grip that’s a little too hard. 

Maybe you’d like the bruises, he thinks, with the way you sigh happily into his mouth as he does it. 

“Clyde?” You ask, voice breathy and needy, and going straight to his balls. 

“Yeah darlin’?” He replies, eyes lidded but open enough to see you shifting around to be perfectly in front of him, aware enough to feel your hand toying with his belt. 

“I was hopin’ you wouldn’t mind me sucking your dick.” You look up at him through your lashes, and he swears his knees are gonna buckle, swears he’s gonna black out from how dizzy he gets, all the blood in his brain rushing to his cock. 

“Sweetheart, I’d never mind. Closin’ time ain’t here for another hour – ” He tucks some of your hair behind your ear but you shake your head, bite at your bottom lip.

“No, I want you right now.” You say, insistent, and he has to gulp, heart thudding in his chest.

“Now?” He asks, looking around, but you’re already undoing his belt, already popping the button on top of his fitted jeans, already gearing up to sink to your knees and he just has to grab you.

“Uh huh, right here.” You grin, taking his hand and shoving it up under your top, letting it grope at your breast, “’S’that okay?”

And he’s almost drunk off of it, the feeling of your velvety skin under his calloused palm, almost ready to let you do whatever you want. 

But still, something nags the back of his mind. 

“Someone could see.” He shakes his head, makes you pout, makes you lean in real close and with his hand still on your chest, lick a broad stripe up his adam’s apple, breathe hot air onto the skin and set him alight with shivers. 

“Let them.” You say simply, and Clyde has to groan, has to, because now his jeans are too tight, his cock wants to be let free, wants to shove itself down your throat, especially when you suck on his neck hard, with a needy little, “Let me?”

He maneuvers you so that he can grip your jaw in his hand, look at you real stern.

“Fuck you’re so pretty, don’t go teasin’ me now, or else I won’t be able to hold back.” He says, but your chest is heaving and he can smell how eager you are for it, how wet the idea of it is making you, so he relents with, “Come on, let’s go around to the side.”

You practically jump for joy when he manhandles you around the porch of the bar, around to the side of the building where it’s cold and dark and deliciously empty.

You drop to your knees almost immediately, almost as soon as you’re out of view of the parking lot, almost as soon as Clyde can groan, hard cock rubbing against his boxers, demanding friction.

“Your throat ain’t gonna fit all of me, I’m pretty big.” Clyde says, hand already winding into your hair and gripping it tight, as you set to work on tugging his jeans and boxers down far enough his muscular thighs to give enough room for his cock and balls to nearly smack you in the face.

“I know just how big you are Mr. Logan, and I promise you, I can take it.” You smirk, proving your point by licking a broad stripe up his shaft, tongue swirling around the head of his cock with a, “Don’t hold back.”

And he doesn’t, not one bit. He watches with heavy breathing as you work his dick further and further down your throat, can feel how it’s so tight around him, can feel the wet slippery slide of your mouth and tongue and spit and drool all around him – and when you swallow, when you hollow out your cheeks, he loses it just a little and starts thrusting.

You take only the briefest of moments to realize he’s going to fuck your face, and when you go limp for him it’s a blessed feeling, and Clyde has to lean his head back against the wall of Duck Tape, as he forces your head down down down, closer to him, until your nose is buried right against his skin.

You’re crying and it’s gorgeous, mascara smudging onto your cheeks just from being overwhelmed, from choking. He likes when you choke on his cock – but he loves this. He doesn’t know why, it’s so dirty, so seedy, not anything like he’s used to before, but then again neither are you. And if this is the sort of shit you want, he’s not in any mood to deny you.

He alternates between thrusting in and out of your mouth, and pulling and pushing your head by your hair onto him, bobbing it up and down up and down, using you, using your throat. You’d be covered in your own spit, if he didn’t occupy all the room in your mouth, he knows that.

When he comes it’s a surprise for you both, and he has a moment of panic because he can’t warn you, there’s no time for it, but you’re good – so fucking good, and he can feel you drink him down.

“Shit, you swallowed all of that?” He asks, slowly easing out of your throat, watching the stretch of it, the bulge of it slide out of you for the final time. It’s mesmerizing, how thoroughly debauched you are, covered in spit and tears and mascara, lipstick smudged around your mouth, lipstick on the very base of his cock.

He doesn’t know why that makes his dick twitch for more, but he’s spent for right now.

“Every drop, see?” You offer, open your mouth wide and stick your tongue out, not a single strand of pearly white come to be seen.

Maybe he isn’t entirely spent, he thinks, hauling you up off the floor carefully tucking you against him gently, wiping your face clean with a tissue he has in his pocket for whatever reason. Maybe he’ll take you home and fuck you right that second, close up the bar and lock you in his bedroom.

You grin wide, press your thighs together, and he realizes he’s said that out loud.

“I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard in a long time.” You say with a wink and he’s practically scrambling to tuck himself away, suddenly desperate and eager for closin’ time.


End file.
